


Notebook

by OneLittleWriter (Franglish_Humanoid)



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, Crack Treated Seriously, Fangirling characters if you squint harder, Gen, How Do I Tag, I Was Drunk When I Wrote This, I'm sorry but I'm not ashamed, Shippy if you really squint and turn your head at a precise angle whilst drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2018-03-09 12:13:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3249260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Franglish_Humanoid/pseuds/OneLittleWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when you need your best minds on translating a diary? If you're Phil Coulson, you create a monster. </p><p>Prompted by this post: http://verbivore8642.tumblr.com/post/103340344293/do-you-ever-just-sit-there-and-think-about-jemma</p>
            </blockquote>





	Notebook

The problem with Peggy Carter’s encoded shorthand was that it was was… well… encoded. Or at least, that was what Phil Coulson surmised as he watched from the furthest corner of the dingy Playground lab as their best and brightest peered and prodded a complicated book of random gibberish written by the woman herself. A hacker couldn’t decode it, a self proclaimed world expert on the Howling Commando’s (and by default, the founding of the SSR) was lost at it, the grandson of one of her best friends had not a clue and now even his English genii seemed utterly lost (and no, part of him had totally not been hoping that some level of Britishness would aid them do deciphering the apparent nonsense in the book they so desperately needed to understand, not at all.).

 This left him with a very difficult decision to make. That text was utterly crucial to understanding how to unlock an underground sector of the base which contained indispensable files on the origins of HYDRA. But every single note Peggy had written that could possibly have anything to do with unlocking it was hidden beneath a layer of code, pictograms and best still, random diary entries reading such as, “Today Jarvis refused to drive over 37 miles an hour in a 40 zone. That darned man will get us caught one of these days and even a blueberry bagel from the automat won’t save him this time.”, utter nonsense which made no apparent sense. 

As Fitz put it, turning back to his boss with a look which was half regretful and half crazed from hours studying the confusing texts. “Peggy Carter doesn’t give up her secrets easy. Even on paper she’s bloody minded.”  
  So that left just one option. Phil was not callous enough to even attempt to approach her herself, no matter how sharp she was in the periods between forgetfulness. However, whether ringing up an honest to god supersoldier and saying “Hey there, the guy Nick told you was dead here, was just wondering if you could pop into a super secret base which doesn’t officially exist and take a look at your ninety year old ex-girlfriends record books it would be much appreciated.” Because that was so very much better and less brutish. Or not. But maybe he would be nicer than  Barton and Romanoff were going to be when they would find out and not punch him? Or at least, not break any bones…  
 It was inevitable after all that Clint would sulk for a good few years before exacting a cruel and hilarious revenge whilst laughing his ass off, whereas Natasha would likely either be smug as sin or relieve him of his right pinky for hiding the truth from them.

 

With trepidation, he left the two foremost scientists of his team and headed back to his office, already measuring his steps like a condemned man. Skye shot him a questioning look from where she was mediating what looked like a brewing argument between Bobbi and Hunter but remained in place beside a napping Trip who had just returned from spending the past twenty odd hours on monitoring a possible security breach. He made his way into the office and found himself, heart in his mouth in a slightly disturbing way he hadn’t felt in a very long time, like the awkward teenage version of himself who had made a fool of himself many a time and had since been pushed down too deep to resurface, and dialled up the number he had committed to memory from Fury’s contact list in the toolbox.  
 The phone rang precisely three times, long enough to put off a prankster or correct a misdial but not long enough to be considered disrespectful, before a cool masculine voice, British in inflection (and what exactly was with the anglophile nature of this entire damn situation?) asked him. “Avengers residence, may I ask your business?”  
 “This is acting SHIELD director Phil Coulson.” He replied, not for the first time disconcerted by the fact that he was so easily holding a conversation with a piece of programming. “I have a matter of medium to urgent importance for the attention of Captain Rogers? If he is not priorly engaged…” The machine paused for a long enough moment that he wondered if he had inadvertently glitched it before it replied softly. “Connecting to the phone of Captain Rogers. And may I permit myself to congratulate you on your sudden return to good health?”

There was a soft click before he could reply to the worryingly charismatic AI and a suspicious sounding childhood hero called softly. “Hello? Tell me this isn’t another one of Stark’s tasteless jokes.”  
He could have smiled. In fact, he did, widely, as he was alone in his perfectly secure office. “I assure you, Captain, this is not a joke. Be it in bad taste or otherwise… How’s the twenty-first century going?”  
 The other man chuckled, a deep sound that seemed warm and relaxed, even over the impersonal media of the phone line. “Not bad… Lots more hedging, lots of the same ol’ issues with different names. But why did you call? Surely not to chat after this long in silence…”  
 “Well… My team are having a bit of an issue with some things we’re trying to work out, strictly necessary for our current main concern. We were wondering if you might have at them?”  
There was another moment of weighted silence, much like the one with Jarvis some seconds earlier. “Peg’s stuff I assume?” The warm tone had gone glacial and professional in a split second, rendering things all too uncomfortable once again.  
 “How did you know?”  
 “Because I ain’t a scientist like Stark or Banner and if it were anyone else, you’d call up Nat since she’s versed in this stuffs more than me.” He let the silence speak volumes once more. “Text me the coordinates. I’ll be there within twenty four hours.”

 

As it turned out, they did not need even close to twenty four hours to arrange, authorise and effect the supersoldier’s journey from New York to the Playground. Koenig, whichever one of the damn identical brothers it was, nearly had a heart attack at being told the Captain America was going to be making a flying visit to base. Trip, May, Hunter, Bobbi and Mack seemed mildly enthused at the concept and the others did not warrant knowing until the moment itself came. Moreover, telling Skye meant telling Jemma and Jemma’s interest would result in another case of the pouting Fitz’s for sure. And nobody needed an even grumpier Fitz stalking around like a cat who had been belittled by a toddler.  
 The arrival itself was beautifully understated, perfectly so, and within five hours of that original phone call to the now-dubbed Avengers Tower, Coulson was escorting Steve Rogers down to the labs, apologising for the state of them profusely. The labs truly were a state though and despite Steve's claims he did not mind one bit, it felt somehow sacrilegious to be escorting him down into that...

Pre-aphasia Fitz had a certain level of pride in keeping his workspace pristine, complaining bitterly at so much as a stray screw out of place. Post accident, things were a lot less perfect… Wires spilled out of a tray like worms, all the worktops were littered with the remnants of unfinished pieces and there was even the shattered carcass of a giant-miniaturised drone prototype strewn over half the table they had the stacks of musty old journals spilled across. The biology lab was understandably separated for this reason, but the design lab had been chosen for lack of risk of ruining the precious books with possible organic matter that could be disturbed from the other side of the laboratory level.  
 Jemma was a tiny, hunched figure, perched precariously on a stool that was missing half the bolts from one side (repurposed apparently into keeping one of the light fixtures angled away from the computer monitors) and was stuck into the third or fourth tome, smiling absently to herself. “Doctor Simmons!” Coulson called out, making a beeline for her before the Captain could stop for too long to consider the frankly embarrassing state of the workshop. “I take it Fitz is’t here?”

She did not even glance up, eyes utterly focused on the page in front of her with an intensity she usually reserved for contagions and alien microbes being discovered for the first time. “Fitz? He’s taking a nap. Thankfully he still listens to doctors orders if nothing else…”  
 He approached, leaning over the side of the desk to scan sideways over the page she was on, a seemingly random collection of sketches of hearts. “I found an expert on Ms. Carter.”  
 Jemma hummed quietly, eyes and mind quite obviously so preoccupied that her habitual manners and curiosity went out the window in a millisecond. Steve chuckled softly and warmly, that same laugh from before, then he pulled up a lower metal chair to sit beside her, still taller despite the lower seat. “She’s an amazing woman. Truly fascinating if you ask me…”  
 “I agree,” She murmured quietly. “She was truly brilliant. I don’t know why nobody saw her genius for what it was.”  
“Folks back then had themselves persuaded a woman couldn’t be trusted in a position of power. All it took was a lil’ bit of faith and she proved them dead wrong.”

At that point, Jemma looked up and squeaked, a small, mousey sound. “You… you’re…” She stuttered, lost for words for once.  
 Steve smiled, the small, rather self conscious smile that had been immortalised so often in the propaganda posters and newshots, the smile of a man who hated the attention he most often received. “Yeah… I’m Steve, by the way.”  
 The short biochemist waved her hands rather frantically in his direction. “Well yes, that is plain to see. But you knew Agent Carter! Personally! What was she like?”

 This caused Steve, despite himself, to blink. The action was mirrored by Coulson behind, having heard plenty on his agents previous and highly embarrassing ramblings when faced with members of her very own team and was as such, duly shocked to hear her dismiss any interest in him. Steve however, once the instant surprise faded, smiled widely and warmly, nodding to her. “Ah.. Peggy? She was the best woman I’ve ever know. And… One of the strongest people I’ve ever had the privilege of being around. First time I laid eyes on her? She floored a guy in my training group.” “Really? I hadn’t heard that one before, he must have really deserved it! Have you met Agent Triplette yet?”

 

_______________________________________________________________________

Less than three hours later, he was presented with a logical, sense-filled and complete, perfectly useful translation of the shorthand. Oh, and somehow, an Agent Carter fanclub had started itself with Captain America and their own Jemma Simmons as the directors. And he wasn’t even sorry it had happened.

**Author's Note:**

> This had promise. It did. Then I happened to it. I strongly believe I started this out like it was a chapter for something I have been procrastinating and then somehow switched pace to crack halfway through. I also cannot write Steve for the life of me. He's never been my favourite character and no end of Steve-centric pics can never change that... Also... Jemma. Apart from four lines of role-play, I've never even attempted to write her character before. Hence why you get a Coulson POV.
> 
> The idea belongs to Verbivore8642 on Tumblr, not me. Go look her up. Now. She's hilarious and her writing is epic.


End file.
